


Riding the Lines

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Series: Secret Avengers 'Verse [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Because they'd be dead without Kate Bishop, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Clint doesn't feelings well, Clint should never be a lawyer, Deaf Clint Barton, Explicit Sexual Content, I made my own Secret Avengers team, Light Bondage, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Pray for Foggy Nelson, References to Secret Avengers, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Shameless British Bake Off references, Somewhere Matt Murdock Is Laughing And Doesn't Know Why, Tales of Suspense - Freeform, Timeline What Timeline, Top Clint Barton, clueless idiots, don't know they're dating, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: He wasn’t sure what twist of fate - or plot of the Red Room, more likely – caused them to go right back where their whole partnership began on the exact anniversary, but he was fuckin’ positive it wasn’t a coincidence. (Tales of Suspense #100 divergent, part of Secret Avengers 'verse, can be read as a stand alone).





	Riding the Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).

> This commission was for the absolutely amazing Kangofu_CB and I had way too much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy, CB! Thank you, Sev, for screeching with me. Set one year after [Sidekick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947187). This is the 'verse that never ends and I'm so happy to be playing around with it again. Sidekick and Irresistible make this fic make more sense, but not necessarily required reading. Spoilers for Tales of Suspense: Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier and mild Secret Avengers.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)

“This is kinda weird, right?”

Bucky shot him a glance and fiddled with the cuff of his suit jacket, frown deepening on his face. “What’dya mean?”

Clint waved a hand as they approached the imposing main building of the Tomb, the constant buzz of the electrified fence doing weird shit to his aids. “This. Steshenko. Him turning up dead on today of all days. That’s not a little weird to you?”

“Today?” Bucky caught Clint’s arm and reached out to tighten his tie. “Wednesday?”

“No, not – well, yeah, okay, Wednesday, but that’s not what…” Clint trailed off, taking in Bucky’s confused and bitchy-even-for-him expression. He sighed and pushed Bucky’s gloved hands away and finished adjusting his tie. “Y’know what? Nevermind. Not important.”

Except it kind of _was _important, at least to Clint. He wasn’t sure what twist of fate - or plot of the Red Room, more likely – caused them to go right back where their whole partnership began on the exact anniversary, but he was fuckin’ positive it wasn’t a coincidence. Nothing was coincidence where the Winter Soldier was concerned, and Clint had stopped believing in chance decades ago.

Plus Steshenko’s death also marked the anniversary of Clint and Bucky’s whatever the fuck they were. Partners. Teammates. Fuckbuddies. Clint wasn’t entirely sure what to call it – _not_ dating, and Thompson and Katie-Kate could fuck _right _off with that bullshit – and sidekick just seemed like such a weak word for what Bucky had turned out to be in his life. All of it coming together gave Clint a whole mess of feelings, ninety percent of which he’d rather not deal with ever.

Yeah. Better to just shut his mouth about the entire thing. Focus on the mission; focus on getting the data on Steshenko out of the Tomb and back to SHIELD. Focus on how nice Bucky’s ass looked in those…

No. _Bad_ Clint.

His and Bucky’s jobs were pretty straightforward: pose as Steshenko’s legal team and give Kate enough time to break into the computer system, download all the data the Tomb had, and get out. Thompson was lurking around outside the main gates posing as an intern with Dr. McCoy on their way to visit a patient. It ensured they’d have backup in the forms of Venom and Beast, but Clint was really hoping they wouldn’t need anything other than maybe Bucky’s vibranium fist.

“Why are you so twitchy today?” Bucky murmured as he held the door open for Clint, the fucking gentleman.

“Not enough coffee,” Clint returned, turning a bright smile on the security guards.

“You drank half a pot this morning and we stopped for Starbucks.”

“Maybe I just need to get laid,” Clint said with a dramatic sigh as he approached the main visitor’s desk. He flashed his best grin at the receptionist, whose skin was slowly turning scarlet at Clint’s words. “Afternoon, ma’am. Clinton Berry and James Hollywood with the law offices of Nelson and Murdock. We’re here to represent the family of our late client, Rodion Steshenko, and make sure his affairs are in order.”

Beside him, Clint could practically feel Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head. Whatever, he could pick the aliases next time if he had a problem with Great British Bake Off judges.

“Um, of course, Mr. Berry,” the woman stammered as she studiously avoided eye contact with either of them. That worked; fewer people to be able to ID them later. “If you’ll go down the hall to your left, you can check in with security and they can assist.”

“Appreciated, miss,” Bucky drawled. He “accidentally” kicked Clint’s heel as they walked away. “Does Murdock know you’re usin’ his firm for Avengers business?” he hissed under his breath.

Clint shrugged and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “Dunno, but Foggy owes me a favour and they’re goddamned _lawyers_. They can talk their way into plausible deniability or some other fancy legalese.”

_I should have left you in Chernaya_, Bucky signed quickly as the security office door slid open. Clint blew him a kiss and winked.

The guards definitely eyed them a bit suspiciously as they ran their IDs, but Clint figured that was more because they’d been caught flirting than anything else. Their aliases were iron-clad, the IDs never used on any other mission and as clean as they came. Yeah, he probably should have warned Foggy or Murdock before he’d created two false lawyers under their firm, but hey, it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?

Bucky’s new vibranium arm was the only possible weak point in their plan. It would supposedly pass metal detectors and he wore a specially designed sleeve that imitated flesh well enough that even the most highly trained security would think they were touching skin and muscle and bone, but they’d never actually had a chance to field test the damned thing. Too late to dwell on it now; either it’d work or they’d be busting out of one of the toughest prisons in the US with nothing but their fists and a symbiote-enhanced soldier and a fuzzy mutant for backup.

Katie-Kate would probably get the job done though.

Clint waggled his eyebrows as he spread his arms and let the guard wave his wand over him, smirking at Bucky’s eye roll. The guard finished his scan and gestured for him to step through the doorway. Quickly stuffing his keys and phone back into his pockets, Clint moved to stand next to the new guard and waited while Bucky was subjected to the same scan.

Thankfully, the guard didn’t even blink as he waved his wand over Bucky’s left arm, the bored expression never leaving his face. Bucky’s face, on the other hand, was slowly drifting into resting murder face territory and Clint quickly signed something short and obscene to at least bring him back to neutral territory.

_Promises, promises,_ Bucky signed back, twitching his suit jacket’s collar as the guard let him go. He grabbed his stuff from the bin and walked up to Clint, shaking his head in amusement.

“This way, gentlemen,” the guard said, waving them forward with her rifle. She led the way into a small interview room where two men in starched suits waited at the table. One had his hands rested on a closed briefcase, the other typed away at a small laptop. Neither bothered to look up as Bucky and Clint walked in.

“Hi,” Clint said, probably too loudly. He held out his hand to the guy with the laptop as Bucky tried his best to not look like a bodyguard. “Clinton Berry, Nelson and Murdock. Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice; I’m sure you’ve got your hands full in this place.”

Laptop guy turned a bored expression on Clint and ignored his extended hand. “I’m not sure what you’re after, Counselor. Mr. Steshenko refused to speak to anyone regarding his personal affairs and as far as we’re aware, what’s left of his family denounced him long ago.”

Clint shrugged and pulled out one of the chairs on the opposite end of the table. “Not my place to judge a family’s wishes, whether it’s out of grief or nosiness or revenge, y’know? We’re just here to get the paperwork in order, that’s all.”

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

Closing his eyes, Clint counted to three before signing for Bucky to shut up and sit down under the table. Subtlety wasn’t really the Winter Soldier’s strong suit, former or otherwise, but the man cleaned up _really_ nicely in a suit and was their best bet for at least looking the part of a co-counselor. He just had to not speak the entire time and let Clint do all the bullshitting.

The guy with the briefcase shot them a withering look as Bucky rested his hands on the back of Clint’s chair rather than sit in his own. He pulled a stack of papers out of the briefcase and set them face down on the table. “The review on Mr. Steshenko’s demise will be completed within thirty days and we’ll be notifying your offices when that is available for the family. As for the rest, I’m sure you have the proper documentation?”

Fuck, Clint knew he forgot something.

The wood of the chair back creaked ominously under Bucky’s fingers. “It should have been faxed over to you before we arrived,” Bucky said smoothly, a slight edge to his voice.

“Due to the nature of Mr. Steshenko’s… affiliations… we simply cannot release anything without-“

“Hey, woah, relax,” Clint interrupted, holding his hands up and smiling disarmingly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped out the number for McCoy’s burner phone. “Probably just a mix up; I’ll call the office now and have them fax it, yeah?”

The two men exchanged glances and Clint sent up a prayer for his chair to survive Bucky’s death grip.

_“Nelson and Murdock, how may I direct your call?”_

Clint grinned at McCoy’s clipped tone. “Hey, it’s Berry, I just need that paperwork for the Steshenko family faxed over again? Yep, same number. Now would be great, thanks.”

_“Right away, sir.”_

“Awesome.” Clint hung up and gave the men a thumbs up. “You guys might wanna check the fax, our guy’s on top of it.” And hopefully Venom and Beast would be on top of the roof in the next sixty seconds.

Bucky’s glare must’ve been something impressive because Briefcase sighed and gestured to the security guard. The door clicked shut behind her just as Clint’s phone buzzed with the code from Kate to let them know the cameras were out and she was downloading the files.

“After you, Counselor Hollywood,” Clint said cheerfully, leaning his head back and sticking his tongue out at Bucky.

Bucky was over the table and smashing both men’s heads against the solid metal before either of them could react. He shot Clint a smouldering look and Clint was eternally grateful that the cameras wouldn’t pick up him adjusting himself in his pants.

It was _awesome_ when a mission went according to plan.

~*~*~*~

It was really only appropriate to hide out in Tremont while Kate covered up their tracks and delivered the info back to SHIELD. Thompson and McCoy checked in just as the cab dumped Clint and Bucky off in front of the still-shitty Motel Boss and while Clint was relieved they’d gotten out unscathed, he was far more interested in getting Bucky out of his suit.

“I can’t believe you used British Bake Off aliases,” Bucky groaned as Clint shoved him up against the door to the motel room.

“Really? That’s your objection here?”

Bucky sank his teeth into Clint’s lower lip and tugged his hair _just_ hard enough that Clint saw stars. “Aside from dragging in an innocent law firm-“

“Please, there are no innocent lawyers and Murdock’s _definitely_ no angel.”

Vibranium fingers tightened in Clint’s hair, leaving him gasping. “And fucking up the paperwork, leaving our team at risk, _and_ for being a fuckin’ _tease_ all goddamned day. Aliases were just the icing on the cake.”

Clint barked a laugh and tugged Bucky’s shirt out of his waistband. “You did not just make a baking pun, holy shit.”

Bucky let out a frustrated growl and pushed Clint back, sending him stumbling into the room. He yanked at his tie, sliding it out from around his neck and letting his suit jacket fall to the floor. “Why do I put up with you?” he hissed, hips swaying in a sinful swagger as he backed Clint into the edge of the queen bed.

The last time they’d been in Tremont, Bucky had been just as cocky, though at least this time he had both arms to work with. Clint let himself fall backward onto the bed, biting his lip and arching his hips upward just to be a shit. “Can think of one reason,” he replied with a grin, sliding his hands down his torso and rubbing himself through his suit pants.

The gesture had the desired effect. Bucky’s eyes darkened and he let out a slow breath between his teeth. He moved in one fluid motion, spreading Clint’s legs apart and kneeling on the bed between them, strong hands grabbing Clint’s wrists and holding them still. “Move up,” he said in a tone that raised goosebumps along Clint’s arms.

“You gonna make me, Sergeant?”

Bucky let Clint’s wrists go and grabbed the collar of Clint’s dress shirt, pulling the fabric apart with quick tugs and sending buttons _ping_ing off across the room. He ran his hands down the bare skin of Clint’s chest, fingertips ghosting over his nipples in their path downward. Tugging the ends of the shirt out of Clint’s waistband, he smirked and grabbed Clint’s wrists in an iron grip once more.

Letting out a strangled whine, Clint twitched his hips upward, the fire in his veins turned into blazing arousal as he lay helpless in Bucky’s grasp, still mostly dressed aside from the ripped dress shirt.

Taking both wrists and pulling them up over Clint’s head, Bucky crossed them against the headboard and grabbed his tie. He looped the silky material around Clint’s wrists and lashed them to the wooden slats, tight enough for Clint to feel the pressure but loose enough that he could get out of them fairly easily if he really wanted to.

Clint glanced up at his hands, tugging experimentally and blood singing with the feeling of vulnerability.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Bucky rasped, voice rough with arousal as his eyes drank in every inch of Clint’s body underneath him. He unbuttoned his dark grey shirt slowly, teasing Clint with glimpses of the tanned skin below, a far cry from his usual hasty strip.

“If you stop, I’m gonna cry,” Clint said, fingers twitching in the restraint as Bucky finally pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and tossed it off into the corner. The man had packed on enough muscle over the past year that Clint couldn’t call him skinny anymore with a straight face.

Bucky smirked and leaned in to lick a path up Clint’s throat to just under his ear, chuckling as Clint writhed beneath him. “Oh, you’re gonna cry, sweetheart,” he purred into Clint’s ear, taking care not to dislodge the aid as he nuzzled and mouthed the scarred skin. “You just gotta lay back and not come until I tell you to. Can you do that for me?”

God bless old Steshenko for kicking the bucket. Clint wasn’t sure if it was the memories the motel had brought to the surface or if it was their one year fuckbuddy anniversary or what, but he was achingly hard in his dress pants in record time. He wasn’t usually one for being tied up – getting captured and restrained by way too many fucking people who wanted him dead would do that – but this felt _different_.

Turning his head and capturing Bucky’s lips, Clint shifted his hips and hooked a leg around Bucky’s thighs and pulled him down, letting him feel his hard cock through both their pants. “Do your worst,” he breathed.

Bucky grabbed Clint’s jaw in his left hand and slid his fingers through the black tie still around Clint’s neck with his right. He devoured Clint’s lips, nipping and licking into his mouth roughly before pulling back to press a firm kiss to his forehead. “You’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

“Yeah, well, when do I ever think before speaking?”

Bucky laughed, deep and rich and Clint’s heart twisted just a bit at the sound. Sitting up, Bucky rocked back on his heels and unbuckled his belt with agonizing slowness, fingers dipping below his waistband of his pants and thumbs rubbing over the fabric where his cock tented it. He popped the button and glided his fingers up and down the zipper, letting his head fall back and shutting his eyes.

Clint watched with rapt attention, picking up every little detail of the vision in front of him, from the slight hitch in Bucky’s breath as his fingers traced the outline of his cock to the soft click of the vibranium plates as they shifted with every move. He was never going to get tired of looking at Bucky Barnes; he’d been trapped since that first night in the very same motel and, if anything, he was hungrier now than he’d ever been.

The zipper slid down at what felt like an agonizing pace and Bucky grinned down at Clint as he slid his pants and boxer briefs off in one smooth motion, leaving him laid bare in contrast to Clint’s mostly clothed form.

“Like what you see?”

Clint licked his lips and nodded, eyes following the curve of Bucky’s neck to the broad shoulders and chest, lingering a bit at the narrow waist and hard cock above heavily muscled thighs. “Always,” Clint replied once he found his voice, bringing his gaze back up to meet Bucky’s.

There it was – that slow, almost embarrassed smile of Bucky’s that drove Clint crazy. It transformed the man’s entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and softening his features, making him look like the young soldier he’d been once upon a time. With his hair pulled back into a messy bun, Clint could easily see how he’d been known as a ladies’ man and a heartbreaker, to say nothing of the roguish charm that bled through the stoicism with every passing day.

Clint was utterly ruined for anyone else.

Bucky prowled back up the bed, threading a hand through Clint’s hair and letting his eyes flick from Clint’s down to his lips and back up again. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to Clint’s jaw, lingering a bit at his scarred ears and moved steadily lower to suck bruises into his throat.

“Fuck,” Clint groaned, hips jerking and headboard creaking as he forgot he was tied to it. He clenched his hands into fists, swallowing down an undignified whine. Bucky knew every single one of his hot spots and Clint was powerless to fight back.

“Not yet,” Bucky hummed, scratching at Clint’s scalp.

“Asshole.” Clint yelped at the sudden sharp bite just above his nipple, quickly turning the cry into a moan as Bucky sucked the nub into his mouth and laved his tongue over it.

Raking his nails down Clint’s sides and abdomen, Bucky worked at Clint’s belt and continued to kiss and nip and suck his way across Clint’s scarred torso. “You keep callin’ me names and I’ll leave you here and go find where Thompson and McCoy holed up.”

Clint breathed an unsteady laugh, proud of himself for not crying out as Bucky palmed him through his suit pants. “I’ve got way better abs than either of them.”

“You’re right. I’ll find Kate.”

“Didn’t we agree we weren’t gonna mention her when we’re naked?”

Bucky reached up and whapped Clint upside the head lightly and rolled his eyes. “Do you want your fuckin’ dick sucked or not?”

Clint wriggled happily in his restraints, half wishing Bucky’d just ripped the entire dress shirt off so he could show off his arms more. Being a shit would have to do. “I dunno, man, maybe you’re right about the whole dragging the law firm into this. Here, lemme up, I’ll call Foggy and –“

Wet heat suddenly enveloped his cock, cutting off his words and transforming them into a loud moan. Clint swore a blue streak, letting his head fall back to bang against the headboard and thrashing his bound wrists instinctively. Bucky’s left arm was pressed across his torso, pinning him down, while his right hand busied itself with stroking the length of Clint’s cock that Bucky couldn’t fit into his mouth.

“Shit, Bucky, son of a _bitch_,” Clint whined, chest heaving as he strained to angle his head so he could watch his dick disappear between Bucky’s lips. He gave a tiny thrust upward but couldn’t really get anywhere with the mass of super soldier body weight leaning on his thighs and hips and the unmoveable press of that vibranium arm. He was totally at Bucky’s mercy and it was doing _things _to him.

Bucky, the asshole, fucking _smirked _around Clint’s cock and pulled off with a pop. “Remember, no coming until I tell you to,” he said, lowering his head to suck at the tip, his tongue flicking across the slit and swirling just along the frenulum.

Well, fine. If he couldn’t come, then he sure as shit wasn’t going to shut up. “I’d watch you do this for hours, y’know,” he breathed. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this, and you know it, don’t you, Buck? You’ve got perfect lips, man, and seeing ‘em stretched around my dick? God, you have no idea what that does to me.” He punctuated his words with a jerk of his hips, as much as he could manage, and was rewarded with Bucky’s gaze flickering up to meet his, those gorgeous blue-grey eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Yeah, _shit_, just like that,” Clint continued, smiling lazily as he watched. “Always make me feel so good, babe.”

Bucky grunted around Clint’s cock and pulled off abruptly. Shit. Was the endearment not okay? Clint’s mind raced, prepared to backtrack and trying not to whine at the sudden loss of heat. Bucky used cute nicknames all the time – sweetheart and _darlin’_ and shit like that – but maybe that was just a forties thing?

Opening his mouth to apologize, Clint was cut off by Bucky’s lips on his and a tongue licking into his mouth. There wasn’t time to adjust, to try to gain what little control he had of the situation back, so he just whimpered and followed as Bucky attacked him with teeth and lips and tongue.

“Wait here,” Bucky growled into Clint’s mouth, interrupting his frenzied kissing to slide gracefully off the bed. Clint watched him dumbly, too thrown to even put together a snarky comeback about being tied down. At least he got to admire the view as Bucky bent over to fish through his discarded suit pants.

Throwing the pants aside and coming up empty handed, Bucky stalked back toward the bed. For a heart-stopping moment, Clint had a flashback to the Winter Soldier – murder strut and all – and really, that shouldn’t have been something that made him even harder.

Bucky reached for Clint’s waist, sadly dipping into the pockets of the dress pants Clint still wore rather than going back for his dick. He let out a happy noise and pulled out a small tube from the left pocket and popped the cap, the intense look on his face fading as he let out a barking laugh.

“You an’ your goddamn lube, pal. Every mission.”

“What?” Clint managed to put on an affronted look, at least until Bucky reached around to start fingering himself. “You never know when it’ll come in handy. It’s _tactical_ lube.”

Hissing as he worked two slicked fingers in and out of his ass, Bucky raised an eyebrow and held up the tube. “It’s, _fuck_… it’s fuckin’ Astroglide, you moron.”

Clint clenched and unclenched his hands, aching to touch. He knew his wrists were probably reddened from where he’d been pulling at the tie and the thought of it sent a thrill down his spine. The power imbalance was intoxicating, especially with his still mostly dressed state and Bucky’s nakedness.

“Hey, you never know what you’re gonna need on a mission,” Clint replied after a moment of blatant staring. His voice was wavering and he hated to admit it, but Bucky’d won the round by a landslide.

Drizzling lube over Clint’s cock and smirking at Clint’s sharp inhalation, Bucky swung a leg over Clint’s hips and tossed the lube onto the nightstand. “You just like the thought of takin’ me wherever you want, don’t you?” he murmured, pumping Clint’s dick in long slow strokes. He leaned in to nip at Clint’s earlobe, strands of his hair falling free from his tie to brush Clint’s cheek.

All the sass had gone out of Clint, every sarcastic retort or witty joke replaced with static and a burning need to bury himself in Bucky. He whined something incoherent, turning his head to chase Bucky’s lips.

“Sorry, pal. Didn’t quite get that.”

The tip of his cock rubbed teasingly at Bucky’s entrance and Clint was going to lose his goddamned mind. “Yeah, _fuck. _Yeah, I like that. Or you in me, I don’t care.”

“You probably just want to be in me now though, right?”

The fucking _asshole._ Clint nodded frantically, biting back a cry as the head of his cock breached Bucky and slipped back out. “Shit, yeah, please, Buck. Yes, need you, always need you.”

Bucky rested his forehead against Clint’s, eyes searching his for what felt like an eternity. He brushed his lips against Clint’s in a gentle contrast to his rough command, humming softly. Straightening up, he positioned Clint’s cock under him and sank down in one slow, steady movement, letting his hands slide down Clint’s torso as he seated himself.

Clint keened underneath him, bending one knee and throwing his head back, tears pricking at the edges of his vision.

“Don’t come yet,” Bucky warned, bracketing his arms on either side of Clint’s head and rolling his hips to set a bruising rhythm, his previous tenderness disappearing as he fucked himself on Clint’s dick.

“Can I…” Clint started to ask, the words escaping him. He thrust shallowly, meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Buck, please.”

Bucky nodded, sweat dripping down his temple. “Yeah, go ahead; fuck, you feel so _good._” He licked into Clint’s mouth as he met Clint thrust for thrust. “Been wanting to fuck you in this suit for too damned long.”

Panting into Bucky’s mouth, Clint drove his hips up to meet Bucky’s harsh pace and focused everything he had on not coming too quickly. The tie round his wrists dug into his skin, sending a frission of pain to add to the pleasure coursing through his veins, and _dammit _he wasn’t going to last long like this. Above him, Bucky’s symphony of moans and cries assaulted his hearing aids, making his rhythm falter.

“You gonna make me come, sweetheart?” Bucky purred, drawing back to watch Clint through hooded eyes. “You wanna watch me jack off on you? Watch me come on your dick?”

The English language had pretty much failed Clint at this point. He nodded, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes and doing his best to keep his thrusts steady. Bucky’s cries and the sound of skin and fabric slapping together was almost too much, too overwhelming, but he _needed _to see Bucky completely come apart, naked and gorgeous on Clint’s mostly clothed lap.

Bucky straightened, biting his lip and groaning at the change in angle and depth. “Gotta use your words, Clint.”

“Shit, fuck, _please_,” Clint swore, relieved at least one of those words was what he’d been reaching for.

Laughing quietly, Bucky rolled his eyes. He spat into his right hand, wrapping it around his cock and balancing himself on Clint’s knee with his left. Gasping, he threw his head back and stroked himself in counter rhythm and cried out, a vision of absolute perfection with thick muscles standing out in stark relief and sweat dripping down his neck and torso.

Yeah. There was no way anyone else would ever compare to Bucky Barnes in Clint’s eyes.

Bucky’s hips stuttered against Clint’s, slamming down as he cried out his orgasm. Clint watched him hungrily, eyes darting from his face to the tensed muscles in his arm to the reddened cock pulsing in his grasp.

The feeling of Bucky’s come dripping onto Clint’s stomach sent him over the edge and he jerked wildly in his restraints. “Buck, need to touch you, _please_, Buck,” Clint begged, biting his lip to keep from coming as Bucky clenched around his cock.

Grunting with exertion, Bucky leaned forward and tugged at the end of the tie, releasing the knot and sinking back down onto Clint’s dick with a cry.

Clint surged upward, fingertips tingling and wrists aching, but none of it mattered because Bucky was in his arms and he could touch every inch of him once more. He rocked up into Bucky, wrapping one arm around the man’s waist and burying the other in his hair. He was so fucking close, he could feel the orgasm creep dangerously near with every thrust.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Bucky rasped into Clint’s ear, draping his arms over Clint’s shoulders. “Let go.”

Sobbing into Bucky’s neck, Clint complied, burying himself deep with one last thrust as he saw stars.

They collapsed backward onto the bed, Clint’s body still trembling with the aftershocks as his cock slipped from Bucky’s body. He turned his head blindly, seeking out Bucky’s lips and capturing them gently.

“How’re your wrists?” Bucky asked once they parted, shifting to curl up on his side around Clint.

Clint muttered things that could have been words and flinched in surprise as Bucky’s finger traced the reddened marks around his wrists. “S’fine,” he slurred. He cleared his throat, brain still struggling to catch up. “Happy anniversary.”

The fingers stilled. “Anniversary?”

Shit. Why couldn’t Clint’s brain-mouth filter ever fucking work when he wanted it to. “Uh, yeah, y’know. It’s been a year since that time we went looking for Nat, with Steshenko and the big ass bear and all the Red Room shit.”

“And here,” Bucky finished, looking around as if taking in the room for the first time. “You asked me if I wanted to go to breakfast.”

Clint chuckled, struggling to sit up. He tugged at his sleeves, groaning at the pull of muscles, and tossed his shirt to the side. “Yeah,” he agreed, grimacing as he took in the state of his pants. “Aw, suit. This is gonna be hell on the dry cleaning bill.” He flopped back down, watching as Bucky propped himself up on his elbow.

Bucky’s face was nearly unreadable, back to its usual serious expression despite the hickeys Clint’d left on his neck and the impressively messy bun his hair had managed to stay in. “Kind of a coincidence,” he said slowly. “Too much of a coincidence to be related, y’think?”

“I dunno, man. Someone would have to have known about all that shit _and _go through all the trouble of making Steshenko’s death look like an accident on the same day. I mean, it’s nice to fuck you in this shithole again, don’t get me wrong, but why would someone go through all that?”

It dawned on them both at the same time.

“No fuckin’ way.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“Oh, she would,” Clint groaned, fighting back a grin. “This is exactly something she’d do. Both her exes end up fucking each other regularly for a year? I don’t know how she found out, considering she hasn’t seen either of us since then, but this is one hundred fucking percent her style.”

Bucky laid back down, pillowing his head on Clint’s shoulder and smiling faintly in contemplation. “There’s only one thing left to do then, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Clint twisted his head to nuzzle Bucky’s forehead, relieved the man wasn’t upset at Clint’s remembering the date. “Whassat?”

“I’m pretty sure you owe me some waffles right about now,” Bucky murmured, tilting his head up for a kiss.

Clint grinned and rolled over, capturing Bucky’s lips and kissing him breathless. “We definitely gotta keep with tradition.”


End file.
